


Red Poppies

by Kateinator



Category: RWBY
Genre: (To add jokes), Emotionallly stunted men pine for each other, Flower meanings, Hanahaki AU, Healthy relationships with people in your family??? What's that???, M/M, PINING and UNREQUITED LOVE and ALL THAT SHIT, Tags will be edited in the future, Who will win??? A destiny that's millenia in the making or one bad luck boi, accurate characterization??? I don't know her, aka I wanted to publish something before the year's end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-02-24 11:07:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13212480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kateinator/pseuds/Kateinator
Summary: For many cultures, the Poppy is a symbol of:- Restful sleep and recovery- Consolation for a loss or death in the family- Remembering the fallen of various wars and armed conflicts- Peace in death- Resurrection and eternal lifeOr:Qrow starts coughing up flowers for a certain headmaster and is not okay with it.





	1. Seed

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the angst train, next stop: choking on flowers town!!!

The first time Qrow coughed up the flowers, he thought he was dying.

 

It had been a late night meeting with Ozpin, both their heads bent over maps as they traced the path of new, deadlier forms of Grimm. Qrow has spent a good portion of the night drinking and trying to cajole Ozpin out of his low spirits.

“... and then, the dame reached behind the bar, grabbed the first bottle she could reach, and smashed it on the creep’s head. They guy just hit the ground. Completely out.”

She must have packed quite a punch,” Oz commented disinterestedly, his fingers guiding a line from the Forest of Forever Fall to a group of settlements in the north of Vale.

Qrow, who had spent the entire story dramatically gesticulating, let his hands drop. “Glad to know you’re so invested,” he said, a little testy. Ozpin finally looked up, a tired smile on his face. “I do appreciate the story, Qrow. It has just been... a stressful week.”

Qrow leaned forward, thumb fidgeting with a ring. “Everything ok? Besides the bloodthirsty Grimm at our doors,” he asked. Ozpin leaned back slightly, clasping his hands. “It concerns the Fall Maiden.”

Qrow instantly sobered. “She’s still stable, right?”

“Of course. However, she’s still comatose. James was able to stabilize her, but he is unsure of how long he can do so. The rest of the council says I should start looking for a successor.”

“You have any ideas?”

“A few, unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?” Qrow asked. Instead of answering, Ozpin took a long drink from his mug and let out a long sigh. His shoulders slumped, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “They’re all so young,” he mumbled, partially to himself. “They’re just children. It’s my job to protect them, and I’m leading them to their doom.”

Qrow cocked an eyebrow as he tried to reply to that. “You can’t take all the credit, Oz. And to be honest, compared to you, everyone is a child.”

“Still, I shouldn’t condemn someone to this life because of my mistakes.”

“Which is why we’ll help train them until they can even kick your ass. Last I checked, you’re still a pretty damn good fighter.”

Ozpin looked up at him, a real smile making its way across his face. “Thank you for that, Qrow. I do appreciate you trying to lift my spirits.”

For half a second, Qrow's mind stalled, unable to reply. Then he felt a smile of his own— not his usual bitter smirk, but a real smile— slip across his lips for a moment. "anytime, Oz," he replied. 

All of a sudden, Qrow could feel a burning tickle in his throat, almost like that time Tai dared him to chug that bottle of vodka when they were students. He held up a hand. “Uh, gimme a minute; I’ll be right back,”

He stood and left the room at a quick clip, trying to force a cough and clenching his teeth as his chest felt more and more constricted. He choked out a few small, wet coughs, but the feeling wouldn’t go away. He grimaced at the feeling in his throat, taking a deep draft from his flask. The tickle refused to disappear— in fact, it just got worse, stinging and crowding his throat until his chest started to burn. His eyes teared up. He braced a hand against the wall, coughing hard enough that he nearly started heaving.

The feeling of something in his throat began to intensify, and Qrow slammed a fist against his chest as if to dislodge it.

A bright red lump of _something_ sailed from his mouth and landed with an unceremonious plop on the floor.

He dropped to his knees, partially from the effort and partially to see what he’d spat out. He scooped up the lump, wincing at the soft feeling. Gods, if he actually did cough up a lung, Tai would never forgive him. He stared down at the lump in his hand, and his eyes widened. A pit sank to the bottom of his stomach.

A clump of wide, fanlike petals, colored deep red with a green center, sat in the center of his hand.

Oh, _fuck._

-/-

Hanahaki.

It wasn’t like he’d never heard of it. He’d seen it as a kid— people dying because of their unrequited love. Hell, towards the end of Tai and Raven’s marriage, Tai had started coughing up dahlia petals, right up until the night she left. And maybe he'd thought Ozpin was handsome, and kind, and a pretty decent conversationalist when he wanted to be, but he never expected the stupid crush to develop into— into  _this._

He'd never expected it to happen to _him_.

In retrospect, he probably should have. Only he would have the incredible luck of dying, not on a battlefield, but from suffocation from a bunch of flowers clogging up his lungs. Red poppies, to be specific. His scroll had helpfully informed him when he checked the petals against the camera. The symbol of sleep, and peace in death, and reincarnation. Oddly enough, they fit Ozpin— what with his whole “dying and transferring his soul” shtick.

As he stared at the petals, a half remembered memory came to the front of his mind. One night, while walking home from a bar using Oz as a crutch, he’d asked what was his favorite flower. Really, the kind of question you ask when you are about to throw up in your ~~crush’s~~ trusted colleague’s shoes.

Which he had done, about a second afterward, distracting Ozpin from ever answering the question.

But later, when he woke up, passed out on Oz’s couch with a worn green blanket tossed over his shoulders, a vase of poppies had sat on the coffee table.

He groaned, letting the petals crumple back onto the table he was leaning on. He sat up straight and ran his fingers through his hair, picking up his scroll and hitting a familiar name.

Tai would know what to do.

Probably. 


	2. Germination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The black dahlia’s meaning is tied to a warning of betrayal_
> 
> Or
> 
> In which calls are made and decisions are not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok listen I got sick while writing this and I have executive dysfunction out the wazoo so uh this never got written UNTIL NOW!!!
> 
> This was published from my phone so it might not be perfect formatting wise, but I’ll change that in the morning. Again, you can always hit me up to tell me if I screwed something up character wise, I’m not so confident this chapter stays in the lane of “in character”. 
> 
> Furthermore, I wanna make a shout out to the fic “Flowers Like Ashes” by NoirSongbird, it’s a big inspiration for this and I actually quote it at one point in the fic. It’s super good, and I wanna invite y’all to read it.

“So, what do you want to do?”

Tai’s concerned expression watched him from the scroll screen as Qrow paced across the floor. Qrow’s hands were in his hair, tugging on the salt and pepper strands. “I—I don’t know. I can’t exactly tell him, you know?” He slumped down onto the couch in his apartment, elbows balanced on his knees, scrubbing a hand over his face. The idea of telling Ozpin was an absolute last resort and frankly sounded ridiculous. How could he even say it? ‘Hey, Oz, turns out, I’m in love with you, and I’m dying because of it’. ?

How could he burden Oz, who already had to carry the world on his shoulders, with this?

He was pulled from his thought by Tai yelling his name. He stood and started to pace again, shoving his hands in his back pockets. “What did you do, when they showed up?”

Tai sighed. “Qrow, you were there.”

“Jog my memory.”

He could hear the frustrated debate in Tai’s mind and feel him crossing his arms. “When it first started, I tried to keep it a secret. Then, I tried talking, trying to work things out for Yang’s sake. After... after she left, I ended up passing out from coughing so much, and I made an appointment the next day to get them pulled.”

Qrow grimaced. He remembered that part well. Walking into the kitchen and seeing your best friend and brother in law crumpled on the floor surrounded by reddish black petals and small spots of blood wasn’t something a man forgot easily, no matter how much he drank.

Black dahlia flowers, he’d learned later. Warning of betrayal.

Qrow stopped, the toe of his shoe digging into the torn up carpeting. He knew the side effects. The risks. How he’d never feel anything for Oz again, or even forget Oz altogether.

Could he really risk that?

Did he even want to?

He could feel another tickle in his throat as he thought about what _that_ meant. Gods, he really was in love, wasn’t he?

“Qrow, what do you want to do?”

Qrow’s hands fisted at his sides. “I-I don’t know. I have to think about it.” He turned back to his scroll, shrugging halfheartedly. “It’s early. Maybe I’ll talk to Oz about it. Hell, maybe it’ll fade in time.”

The lie tasted sour on his tongue as he spat it out. Tai nodded, his face softening. “Do something, okay?” He asked. “There is no sense in dying for this.”

Qrow merely nodded.

"Wanna talk to the kids?"

"Nah, tell 'em I'll see them soon." He ended the call and flung himself onto his threadbare old couch, an arm pressed over his eyes. He contemplated calling someone else, if only for a moment. The fewer people that knew about this, the better.

His mind ran in circles as he uncorked his flask, tipping the dregs down his throat and adding more liquor to his mental shopping list. Pulling the flowers meant that the whole “dying for your love like some shitty opera” feeling would go away. It’d make his already terrible luck not feel quite as bad, and the chance of him passing out mid mission would go way down.

On the other hand, losing any feeling he had for Ozpin felt like it’s own personal hell.

He groaned and scrubbed at his eyes. Gods, all he’d been doing for the past two hours was chase his own tail like Zwei after he got into Oobleck’s stash.

Next to him, his scroll vibrated on the coffee table, and he sat up. He could count the number of people who had this number on one hand, and he’d just spoken to one fifth of them. He scooped up the scroll, not bothering to look at the screen as he answered. “Welcome to Nero Mancy’s Morgue— you stab em, we slab em. This is Hamlet speaking.”

He heard a chuckle from the other end of the call. “Qrow, how many times have I called that you use that?”

Shit. It was Oz.

He straightened, one hand already brushing down the front of his shirt as if Oz could see him. “H-Hey Oz, how’re you doing?” He asked, mentally cursing himself. Stuttering? How juvenile could you get?

“I’m fine, I just wanted to check up on you. After our meeting you rushed out rather suddenly. You usually want to talk for a few minutes at least. Is everything alright?”

Had he even realized how much time he spent talking to Oz? Qrow could feel the flowers starting to creep up in his throat at that. Taking a deep breath, he tried to command them back internally. “Yeah, uh, no, I’m okay. Really Oz, just got a bit of a cold. Didn’t want you getting sick, yanno?”

“Well, I appreciate that.”

“Glad to know it.” He swallowed. “Anything else?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. I’ve been getting reports of Grimm activity sources from the border between our city and Mountain Glenn. Glynda has spent too much time recently running errands for me, and you’re the first person I could think of on short notice.”

Before he could respond, Ozpin kept going. “I understand that you’re sick, but you’re one of my most trustworthy colleagues, and one of the most skilled. If there’s evidence of any sort of breach, I would need you to clear the threat and report back as fast as you could.”

Despite the burning in his chest and incessant need to cough, Qrow was grinning. Oz trusted him. Oz thought he was skilled. There was no way he could fail now.

“Don’t worry, Oz,” he heard himself say. “I’ll handle it. I’ll fly out in the morning, check to make sure nothing’s wrong.”

“Thank you, Qrow.”

The line went dead. Qrow finally allowed himself to lean forward, one hand clasping the coffee table in front of him as he coughed up handful after handful of petals. It wasn’t until he finished, nearly retching, that he realized he was at the center of what looked like a floral shop’s dumpster. Crumpled petals had piled up at least an inch thick at his feet, scattering and spreading wider outward.

He sighed and stood, ready to search the threadbare apartment for a broom and pan.

Dealing with the flowers would come at another time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love. 
> 
> A comment a day keeps the executive dysfunction away 
> 
> (Ok that last one was lame)


	3. Roots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he snowdrop flower has several meanings depending on the context. The most common meanings are:
> 
> \- Purity  
> \- Hope  
> \- Rebirth  
> \- Consolation or Sympathy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm BACK ASSHOLES!!!!
> 
> Ok in my defense, I've been stuck on this chapter for a while, and decided to just post what I got and see if I can finagle the rest of what I want as a chapter four/edited chapter three later, Also, this semester has been pretty hard on me, and I got into a lot of new stuff (DCTV and BNHA, specifically) so my focus has been divided. 
> 
> But I'm back!!! And I'm here!!! With a new chapter and a character!!!

Flying already sucked.

Flying for hours while trying not to cough up flowers and leave a trail on a secret mission or literally cough himself out of the sky was an entirely new level of suck.

Qrow transformed in midair above Mountain Glenn's town square, tumbling to a stop and landing on his hands and knees. Not the most elegant landing, but who was around to judge him for it? He stood with a pained grimace, wiping scaped up palms on his slacks before shoving them in his pockets. Glancing around, he started to walk east. Ozpin had mentioned the increased Grimm activity had been localized to the original breach after the explosions a few weeks ago. Apparently, Atlesian soldiers had been directed to start repairing the breach, but had ceased working when they couldn't guarantee the worker's safety. Qrow couldn't blame them. The isolation of Mountain Glenn from the rest of society allowed for the Grimm in the area to be more difficult to fight. His pace picked up slightly, but he leaned back slightly, looking for all intents and purposes like a man on a casual stroll, barring the giant sword strapped to his back.

Half an hour passed, with his only company being the wind and his own thoughts. His mind drifted to Ruby and Yang. He remembered how excited they'd been afterwards, and how despite their misgivings and unanswered questions how proud they were to defend their home with their friends. He remembered the night after the breach, Oz had pulled an all nighter planning for extra Huntsmen and Huntresses to stand guard until the breach was sealed. He remembered how guilty Oz had been for sending untrained huntsmen ( _children_ , he had stressed, so many times afterward) on such a dangerous mission, even with a fighter like Oobleck.

Qrow had stayed up with him, assisting him after Glynda had passed out on the couch (repairing miles worth of wreckage tended to exhaust even the most experienced witches) and trying his damnedest to assuage Oz's guilt, even if he knew it was futile.

He could already feel himself getting choked up, literally, and forced his thoughts away from Ozpin. Yang's birthday was coming up, right? He needed to think of a good present, one that would be better than the motorbike after she got into Beacon. Maybe ask Ruby for some tips. Or try to ask that Blake girl Yang keeps talking about without realizing it.

Qrow grinned at that.

Ah, young love. He remembered that part of his years at Beacon all too well.

Gods, what a nightmare.

He was shaken from his thoughts by a sound, his hand immediately dropping to rest on his scythe. His ears sharpened, listening for the telltale growl of a Creature of Grimm.

He heard another noise, something low, echoey and grinding, and automatically the blade started to curve as he squeezed the trigger built into the handle. His heartbeat started to pick up as he crept closer to the sound.

Creeping against the wall of a dusty, crumbling grey building, he cocked his head towards the noise. Judging by the repetition, he had to guess at least two, three of the things. And they sounded big, if distant. Probably trying to claw their way through the half repaired breach.

He took a deep breath and leapt out from behind cover, Harbinger already unfolded in scythe form and ready for battle.

Only to find nothing. The field between him and the breach had been completely empty.

Except for several smudges of ashy white starkly silhouetted against the dark stone.

He grimaced. Atlesians. Stubborn bastards never knew when to cut and run.

He sheathed Harbinger and stormed forward. He had a feeling he knew who _exactly_ was running this.

-/-

Qrow could hear the engines of Atlas shut down at his appearance. His pace slowed as he approached the off-white figures. His eyes were drawn to one straight-backed figure standing at the edge of the tunnel hole, hands primly clasped behind her back. His lips twisted into a sneer.

“Winter Schnee,” he snarled. “Of all the crash sites in the world, you had to walk into mine.” Schnee turned, lips curled as if she smelled something awful. “Branwen,” she hissed, “what on Remnant are you doing here?”

He spread his arms. “Clearing out Grimm. You know, my job? What are you doing here?”

“I’m on a mission of my own. Atlas has been tasked to seal the breach—“

“Yeah, and that was _suspended_ weeks ago!”

“Nevertheless, General Ironwood sent us to continue. He said it was urgent.”

Qrow was nonplussed at that. Ironwood, going behind Ozpin’s back like that? The hell was he thinking? “Urgent enough to put your men’s lives at risk?” He snapped back, trying to mask his surprise with his still roiling anger.

“If we don’t finish this as soon as possible, everyone in Vale’s lives are at risk!” She turned back around and signaled to the workers to continue.

He sneered at her back. “Typical Schnee,” he growled. “Always willing to put your interests before others lives.” He knew that was unfair; she was working to protect other people’s lives just as he was. But the fact that Ironwood has ordered her here, at risk of his own men’s lives and against Ozpin’s orders, has thrown him off balance.

Winter stiffened. She spun back around, unsheathing her sword and pointing it directly at his nose. “Take. That. _Back_.”

A rational man would have recognized the danger of an angry, armed woman pointing something very sharp at their face and backed off with an apology.

Qrow was too stubborn to be that man. Instead, he merely leaned back and smirked. “Make me,” he said.

With a snarl that probably made her governess cry, she slashed at his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I kinda made them fight over nothing, but I really did want them to fight. I don't hate Winter, I think she's super cool, actually!!! But they'll duke it out next chapter (IF I CAN FUCKING WRITE IT)
> 
> Write comments??? Maybe??? I love comments

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, hit me up on tumblr or twitter, I'm kateitron on both accounts 
> 
> Come critique my writing or something
> 
> (Nah seriously if there's a flaw somewhere tell me I like not being bad at writing)
> 
> Comments are love pls comment


End file.
